


Home's a long, long way from us

by widgenstain



Category: Murder In Mind, Shame (2011)
Genre: Addiction, Angst, Community: mcfassy, Drug Addiction, M/M, Past Abuse, Prostitution, Shame AU, Spoilers, What is BE and AE spelling?, abused character doesn't realise he's abused, ergo not realistically, good people doing questionable things, me trying to english, opinions expressed by characters do not necessarily reflect author's, screwed up people, sex addiction is portrayed like in Shame
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-01-31
Updated: 2013-01-31
Packaged: 2017-11-27 17:45:24
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,204
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/664698
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/widgenstain/pseuds/widgenstain
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <b>SHAME (2011) SPOILERS</b>
</p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p>Set after the plot of Shame. Brandon was too late and couldn't save Sissy. He had a mental breakdown, quit his job and after a month of drifting around, he started working for an escort service he was a client of before. </p><p>Martin Vosper is American (or my Central European version of it) for this story. Since his character didn't get much development in Murder In Mind (due to dying in the first five minutes) I drew in elements of Charles Xavier and James McAvoy. </p><p>And don't judge me for using a Bruce Springsteen lyric as the title. It fits.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Home's a long, long way from us

The sun is setting as Brandon gets up from the bed. 

He doesn’t have much time. 

A quick shower, everything has to be clean, wet feet on the bathroom mat.  
He’s back to his old form, the extra work-outs are showing. Every string of muscle, all the big veins visible underneath his skin. 

His gaze doesn’t go up to the reflexion of his face. The wrinkles are getting deeper with what feels like every week. He gets his shirt and trousers. The look of a business man in his spare time. He hopes that will trigger the client’s fantasies. He doesn’t want to get changed in the house. The ‘costumes’, as he likes to call them, are always clean and in good condition, but he prefers his own clothes. 

In the streets artificial light has taken over.  
The city is still buzzing, there are so many people on his way to the pick-up point. Parents with sleeping children, teenagers trying to imitate what they think adult life is like, young couples, old couples, lonely people rushing between them to get home.  
As he gets closer to his destination, the more colourful the people get.  
Young women in short and shorter skirts, stumbling on their high heels, older women more secure but also already more drunk. 

He notices their looks. 

There is a hen party circling him, it would be so easy. But not tonight.  
He smiles them away, the taste of the desperate business woman on her lunch break flushing from his memory back to the tip of his tongue. 

At his corner there are less party-girls and he can spot the first transvestites parading through the night. Exactly on time the black Mercedes pulls up. Brandon opens the back door to slide in on the leather seats. 

“Hello, good to see you again. How have you been?” The interest the elderly man shows is real, he knows that. 

“Alright. And you?” 

“Ach, the typical problems. People being too dumb for their jobs, so you have to do it on your own anyway… Well, I’d like you to meet Martin, he’s with us tonight. Martin this is Brandon.” 

Brandon curtly nods at the youth, who’s with him on the back bench.  
He had to use quite some restraint not to frown when he saw the guy after he had gotten in the car. One can tell that he is a junkie from forty miles away. And not just by the smell. He doesn’t know where and why the hell the client had to pick such trash.

“I’ve met this lovely eager young man at a bookstore in Long Island City the other night. I immediately could see that he was promising and asked him if he wanted to join us. Why don’t you get acquainted a little on the drive? I have to take the car away, they don’t let me park here…”

Bookstore. An adult bookstore. Some of them have spank booths in the basement that hookers use to get their customers off. Brandon knows because he frequented them often enough. So he really is a junkie selling himself on the sidewalk. Brandon has no desire to get acquainted with him. 

The kid is barely legal from the looks, so small that he’s almost lost on the bench, dressed in this all-white yet worn and dirty raver-outfit. Unnaturally pale and greasy as all the street scum is, he only needs a glazed stare to be a textbook example of a substance abuser.  
But the gigantic blue eyes are focused and mustering him with a hint of curiosity and a big chunk of unveiled distrust.  
As if he was the one to distrust! He never understood how such a successful man as the client is, can be so naïve to let people like ~~them~~ this on his property. It seems a miracle to Brandon that the guy hasn’t been robbed a billion times.  
Thankfully he is responsible enough to provide protection because Brandon doesn’t even want to imagine which diseases this kid is incubating. 

They don’t exchange a word till they get out of the city and the houses become smaller and the gardens around them bigger. At the marvelling face the little guy suddenly has on, he can tell that he doesn’t often get in the luxurious suburbs. Thank God. 

“Do you really live here?” 

“Of course…” 

“You must have gotten a nice job then!” 

The only thing Brandon gets from the agency is the client number, but he knows from previous visits that ‘David’ is some big shot scientist at the technical university, who plays golf when he isn’t working or shooting amateur porn in his pool house. There have been traces of a wife, but he seems to live alone now; it doesn’t surprise Brandon. This time he would read the name on the gate and google him later. Ah, Prof D. Palmer, there it is. 

The elegant pool house has the lights on when they get there and, as always, there is finger food and champagne waiting in the little living area. Behind the door in the back there is the lightening equipment built around the bed. David asks Martin, as Brandon has expected, to get ready in the bathroom and gives him some new clothes. Then he excuses himself, because he has to prepare something technical. As soon as David has gone in the other room Martin turns to him:

“We’re making porn right?” 

“Yes… I’m going to fuck you later and he’s filming it. Porn.”

Saying it gives him a lump in his chest. Don’t think of it now. 

“You? Only you? He’s not participating?” 

“No. He likes to watch.” 

For a moment Brandon feels a surge of something like sympathy for the strangely concerned kid. 

“Don’t worry, he’s a good guy, not much of a filmmaker though. Some kind of a voyeurist who likes to keep some tokens, I guess. He’ll be jerking along and if he wants me to, I’ll blow him in the end. I’m the only one who is going to touch you. Do you have a problem with that?” 

“No… not at all.” 

And before Brandon can figure out what that sudden smirk is supposed to mean, Martin is off to the bathroom. 

He lets himself down on the sofa, there are skinny mags lying on the table. Brandon puts them away, he has to distract himself from the buzz in his veins. Lunchtime has been gone a long time. He took care of himself in the shower, but it’s not the same. 

On the book shelf there’s a home decoration magazine, perfect. While his eyes are occupied with the pretty pictures of floral arrangements his ears wander to the sounds coming from the bathroom. Shower, some singing, Johnny Cash, loud and false. Then a blow-dryer. 

Martin comes out of the steaming bathroom, the new clothes which are aiming for college-twink-type are much better fitting than the rags he wore before. The greasy hair now is in fluffy brown locks, the cold sweat stench is gone and he seems so much fresher and even has a smile on the stubble less face. 

He took something in there. 

“Wow this is awesome. You could fit an apartment into that bath! Is that champagne?” 

Brandon gets up to get two glasses. 

“Oh, wow thank you, you didn’t have to.” 

“No worries.” 

Both of them are now standing somewhat awkwardly in the kitchen. 

Brandon realises that his first estimation was a little off. Martin is small and has soft facial features, but he isn’t a kid anymore. Maybe in his early twenties. He lets his gaze glide over the manly form, not very well nourished as he can tell by the prominent collarbones, but his mid-section is still nicely curved. He knows that his own arse will look skinny compared to the perky bubble Martin is carrying around.  
It’s round and looks so soft, how it must feel… 

He coughs to get rid of the dry feeling in his mouth. Martin, who has sized him up equally in return, takes the glass and sits down. 

“So, are you an actor?” 

“Why?” 

“Because you’ve been here before. I thought you were a porn actor.” 

“No, I work for an escort service.” 

“So you’re a prostitute too? I didn’t expect that! Let’s drink to that! On the oldest of professions!” 

“I’m not a prosti…” 

“Yeah, yeah I know… Me neither. So how much do you usually get for fucking someone?” 

The question echoes in the room. _Much more than you do_ Brandon is tempted to say. He bites it down. 

“There… there is a set price…”

“I’m sorry. One shouldn’t talk about money on the first date.” 

“… This is a date to you?” Brandon is slightly amused. 

“Well, that’s the closest I’m getting to one. You’re actually hot. I’d ask you out if I’d met you under different circumstances”, Martin lowers his voice, “I'm usually stuck with creeps like the guy who brought us here. Those old, filthy men, who want me because I look like 15...”

Brandon needs a moment to take this in. Involuntarily he resumes the inspection of the man opposite of him. Not that it would matter, but the huge blue eyes, the soft, light skin and the dark wavy hair do make Martin prettier than most of the people Brandon has been sleeping with since he started taking money for it. 

And those perfect rosy lips… he wants them on… Why doesn’t David hurry up?! 

“So how old are you really? Not fifteen I hope?” 

While Brandon says this he knows that he would go through with it, even if Martin said that he was still a child.  
He has gotten too used to thoughts like these to be shocked by them anymore. He ignores the half-amused half-annoyed smile Martin has on his face. 

“No, I’m 26.” 

Liar. Brandon gives him 22, maximum. 

“How old are you?” 

“…31… no, 34 actually.” Why did he just say that? He never tells his real age. On the other hand this isn’t a client, just some rent-boy to whom HE will be more of a client during the course of the evening. He hopes David didn’t hear the slip with the age. 

“Cool… cool you’re still in the business.” 

“I didn’t start here. When I was your age I had an economics degree and a proper job.” 

“You’ve got a degree in economics?! How the hell did you end up here with me? God, I wish I could have gone to university!” 

“….” 

“Sorry…” Martin downs his glass. 

“Could I have another one?” 

“Sure.” 

David comes back into the living area. 

“Everything is almost ready. I had to adjust the lightening. You have such beautiful fair skin! To film something like that is never easy.” 

Martin visibly gets uneasy when David addresses him. He was so game a second ago.  
Brandon moves himself to the couch onto the seat next to the little guy. His scent gets caught in his nostrils. No shampoo perfume, David hates that. It’s very pure human, with some unexplainable natural smell of lavender. 

“Well, I think I forgot to check something, I’m in the neighbouring room if you need me!” 

And back he goes. 

“What was that all about?”

Brandon gets up to pour them another glass. 

“He likes to shoot ‘real’ sex. Not just people thrusting into each other on his commands. Something that grows organically. If he feels that he’s intruding he rather gets out of the way.” 

“And for that he hires two whores instead of simply asking some couples?” 

Brandon gives him a small grin. David undoubtedly has his quirks. 

“Maybe it’s a power thing, I don’t know…”

“Ah yeah. When isn’t it? So… was he intruding something?” 

“…” 

“Tell me about the times you’ve been here before!” 

“There isn’t much to tell.” 

“Did he get exciting, young, experienced men like me as well?” 

Brandon can’t help the chuckle. Now both of them are smiling. 

“No… the first time I got fucked by this hairy guy… and then a female stripper.” 

Brandon only remembered the girl’s purple hair and the way she just laid there, waiting till it was over. Not responding to tenderness or to his rougher approach. David loved the latter, but he thought it was even more disappointing than usual. Like it didn’t mean at least something…

“You’re doing women too?!” 

“Yeah, why not? I actually prefer them.” 

“Really?” There is something unsettling about the intense, analytical stare from the deep blue eyes. Brandon feels like he’s getting x-rayed. 

“You’re straight?”

“No I guess…” Brandon doesn’t know what he is, but it certainly doesn’t fall in any of the standard categories.

“Are you?”

The boyish face changes back to a more cheerful, less threatening expression and Martin laughs.

“Nope, you’re talking to one of the five male hookers in New York City who are actually gay. Doesn’t change the fact that I love women but sex with them is so… urgh…”

Now Brandon flashes his big toothy smile. Martin’s fascinated look doesn’t go unnoticed. He downs another glass. 

“Do you have anything stronger?” 

“Of course…” 

He is drinking fast and is halfway through a new pack of cigarettes. His body is used to poison, but eventually the alcohol starts showing its power. Martin’s cheeks turn rosy and his lips ruby red. He doesn’t even notice that David has come back. He starts telling raunchy jokes that Brandon has heard a million times before, but he laughs anyway. Martin’s laugh is too infectious. The way he throws his head back as if he was full of pride, then his glinting blue eyes search for Brandon’s for approval, but too cheeky too raucously enjoying himself. 

Brandon can’t stand it any longer. He lowers his arm from the back of the sofa onto Martin’s shoulders.  
They’re bony, but the heat of the young body feels good under his palms.

“Alright.”

Martin immediately gets the hint. He goes for Brandon’s waist, touching the expensive shirt and the body underneath, exploring the stomach muscles, gliding his stubby fingers in the space between the buttons feeling the skin. One strong little hand goes up to Brandon’s neck, the thumb lingering on the jaw, 

“…do you mind?”  
and when Brandon shakes his head, he pulls him in for a kiss. 

The lips are as soft as expected. Brandon’ shifts his arm to the boy’s hip, pulling him closer, destabilising him. He seems to like it, giggles and taunts him by snapping his teeth a little. Brandon retaliates going deeper into the open mouth, blocking any attempts to bite with a long and probing tongue. Martin tastes sweet and spicy of the bourbon and tobacco.  
He feels the rent-boys bitten nails in his neck dragging him further down. Brandon is now half lying on top of him; Even if the position is awkward the kissing feels right and good. 

The soft giving mouth and the vigour lips fighting for their dominance. He lets go of them, caressing the beardless line of his jaw, the soft spot between ear and neck, before he burrows his nose in the gape where the strong veiny flesh meets the collar bone. The area is covered with hickeys in all colours of bruising. 

“Go on, I like it” a voice whispers in his ear. 

Brandon lets his tongue glide over the outlines before sucking on a yellow spot, feeling the soft skin between his lips. Martin moans, shifting himself closer, his hands lightly massaging the muscles under Brandon’s shoulder blades.  
He goes back to the swollen red lips and lets his hand slide down the cotton of the shirt to Martin’s crotch. He has to get his groin closer to the growing bulge of heat under the jeans, slightly rubbing himself against it. 

When they separate he opens his eyes only to see Martin’s are open too. They’re dark blue and deep, full of awareness of what is happening. Both men know. And it makes them chuckle. 

“Shall we move this somewhere else?” 

Brandon only nods. David gets very agitated, but Martin has a frown for him. 

“Where are my two hundred? “

He scoffs at the old man, who winces and hands him the green papers with a look of complete devotion. Testing his power over him while slowly counting the bills he asks:

“So, my handsome friend here tells me that you will be watching and watching only while we have fun… I am inclined to believe that. Are you’re going to disappoint me?”

The sudden change in articulation lets David jump even more. 

“No”, he says eagerly. 

They’re in the ‘studio’ now. The bed is big and freshly made. There’re four cameras hanging around, David will cut in between them as Brandon knows. He has seen one of the grainy, third class final products. 

“Any special wishes? No? So it’s just this lovely, strong fellow fucking me in the ass then? Good. Be a nice director and go sit over there…” 

Brandon loves how Martin manages to be so crude to the man paying them, yet turning him on at the same time. Turning Brandon on as well. 

It was clearly established before what was going to happen, but it’s good to hear that Martin is so alright with it. He pulls him in, smiling, it’s so much easier in a setting like this, and kisses him again. More obscenely and fitting for where they are. 

He tugs the t-shirt over the kid’s head, longing for what’s below. He’s scrawny, but there is just enough soft skin around the hips, just enough smoothness for Brandon to grab and hold onto.  
The blue eyes expectantly studying him are even more enthralling in close-up. They don’t give away any thoughts, but the rose petal lips are parted, ready and waiting for another taking. Brandon hungrily obliges. 

He opens the buttons of the jeans, but before he can slide a hand in, Martin lets himself fall down on the bed. 

“Your turn.”

Smirking Brandon starts to unbutton his shirt, getting it out of his trousers and undoing the rest of the buttons. Martin’s breaths grow longer and more laboured as he watches the trimmed, exercised frame getting uncovered. He jerks up his back ridding himself off the jeans. 

Brandon can see that the little body in front of him definitely isn’t taken much care of and used often. The belly is flat but not trained, the only defined muscles are in his arms, ribs too prominent and the skin… 

Besides the bruises, bite marks and scratches on the neck and torso, there are fine white lines and spots, old scars, a big and ugly one just below the ribcage, and more recent: healing cigarette burns just above the hip bones. 

No fresh injection holes though. 

But he has reached a stage where he wouldn’t care anymore anyways. He yanks off his slacks, throws away the socks and less frantically slips down his pants over his half-erect cock. 

He knows why David wants him back more often than the other escorts. Knows why he gets hired so often in general. Still, the very pleased expression appearing on Martin’s face is ten times more worth in flattery. 

He crawls on the bed, stroking Martin’s thighs and pulling off his boxers too. Brandon isn’t a fan of shaving his private parts, Martin apparently neither and what lies twitchingly in between the strangely dark ginger curls of hair, is impressive in its own right. David is in for a treat. 

He lies down on top of the other man, kissing him again; stretching the time he can stand the feeling of having another human’s body this close. Right now it feels great.  
Martin sighs in between the wet and sloppy smooching and gently starts to roll his hips, moving them both against each other. Brandon answers with his own rhythm, raising the little guy’s arms, playfully pinning down his wrists. Brandon is completely hard and grown. 

When he stops the kissing and pushes himself up, Martin lets out a little sound of displeasure, but prepares to roll on his stomach. Brandon holds him back. 

This one is going to be a good one and as much as he wants the Feeling, as much as he needs it, he wants this to last. He wants something to last. 

His mouth on Martin’s chest, not kissing, but pressing his lips against it, sometimes soft, sometimes more forceful. Nibbling on the soft skin with his teeth, he works way down over caved in belly, leaving traces with his tongue.  
Martin shudders, his eyes wide, the pupils dilated and his fingers reaching for Brandon’s hair. Brandon goes further down the silky skin, touching Martin’s erection with his neck and jaw. He puts three fingers in his mouth wetting them to make his grip on Martin’s cock feel nicer.  
The other man just groans, flipping his head back, legs spread wide, playing with his own nipples. It’s a beautiful picture that will transfer well on the screen. 

Martin knows how to work this. 

A short glance at David and a condom flies Brandon’s way. He tears it open while continuing to stroke Martin, whose inarticulate noises are indecently loud in the small room. Once it is rolled over the kid’s cock, he lowers his face and takes him in. Martin’s stomach muscles contract involuntarily, almost thrusting into Brandon’s mouth. 

“Fffuuhh fuck…” 

He pushes him back on the bed with one hand. Not like this. The first time he had done this, the guy he was with had been slightly afraid of his teeth, which in retrospect Brandon finds very amusing. He has gotten quite good at it in the past couple months.

Martin relaxes and Brandon sucks him carefully, only very slowly increasing the speed, using his tongue and hollow cheeks to wring out lovely lovely sounds. Lips closed around the head he looks up to the writhing young man, his chest flushed, moaning with every stroke. 

A big part of it is just for show, Brandon has slept with enough prostitutes to be able to tell.  
However, he seems to be on the right track to make this truly enjoyable for the other man. He takes him in wholly. 

The lack of a gag reflex hadn’t always been of advantage to him. He remembers how easily Sissy could vomit up the rotten food their mother had forced them to eat, while he laid sick for a week. Sissy… he can’t. 

His movements become more desperate, the licks less controlled. Suddenly Martin, fingers in his hair, pulls up his head, drawing him to his lips. In between the kiss, the man’s sweet and spicy taste tainted by the strawberry aroma of the condom, he hears him whisper: 

“Stop thinking. Stop thinking so much…” 

He looks at him, eyes big and beautiful, but not kind. Only reassuring confidence. The ‘you can get through with this’ remains unspoken. He turns between Brandon’s arms getting on his knees, pushing his ass down the other man’s torso. Brandon groans and snaps his hips forward. This is it. It feels so good. So very good. 

“Get inside of me, come on!” 

Brandon reaches for the lube that has silently been placed on the bed. Martin’s skin on his arse isn’t impeccable either. Blemishes and more burns. Who does something like that? 

But the cheeks are firm and he flexes them into a strong curve under pressure. Brandon gets the lube and applies it in the crack between them, gently rubbing Martin’s lower back. He’s circling the clean and on this side hairless hole with his middle finger. The urge to pin the little rent-boy down and fuck him senseless reaches almost unbearable levels. 

He has to pace himself. Fight just a little longer. Why did he have to think of Sissy? You’re always so quick. Slow it down! Then maybe it will be enough. Enough to finish all desires… erase all the memories… enough to rest. 

He slips his finger in, a prelude of the heat and tension that’s waiting for him. 

Martin gasps as if it was too much, but he’s fairly loose already. From the douche-nozzle earlier in the bath and, undoubtedly, a lot of practice. He adds more lube with a second finger hooking them inside. The rent-boy shoots him a surprised look over his shoulder, but then the bright eyes light up with real wanton and he sighs

“Yes… yes…” 

Brandon probes further, making sure there is enough lubricant in the slick channel, massaging the spot that makes the other man shiver. 

He loves how Martin is growing even harder, gasping and panting, really enjoying it now. He could too when he was on the receiving end, at least the first part, but that has never been the problem. Another, rougher, shove of his crooked fingers elicits a deep moan from the long white throat.

Martin’s writhing now, pushing himself back on the fingers. 

“Fuck me, come on, do it, please fuck me!” 

Brandon gets the condom. 

“Wait, I wanna see your face.” 

What a strange wish from a prostitute. 

Martin turns back on his back, raising his thighs, holding them up at the knees. He looks dishevelled, hair sweaty at the neck, the milky skin flushed. But everything full of real lust, real excitement. Brandon silently admires it. 

He positions his dick and presses in, in three quick, probably a little too forceful thrusts. Martin doesn’t seem to mind. On the contrary. He gets loud quickly, cursing, firing Brandon up with obscenities.  
Brandon, fully inside the tight heat, has to fight the whiteness in front of his eyes back. Biting his lip, eyes closed he gets into a rhythm, fucking in the man below him, making their hips move together. He takes one of the unexpectedly long legs by the calf and lifts it to his shoulder, changing the angle between their bodies. When the man beneath groans and huffs out 

“Yes… there… harder…”

he continues the rhythm of their hips rolling into each other.  
Martin starts touching himself desperately, his breath growing more erratic by the thrust. When Brandon heightens the speed he yelps, noises now much more high-pitched than before, helplessly lost in what is done to him. 

Brandon can’t help the smug smile. 

“You like it this way?” it’s more a growl than a sentence. 

“Ye..ah…yeh..yeh…” 

A small hand reaches for Brandon’s butt cheeks, pushing him in deeper. 

“Fuck…” 

Sensitive skin twisted between strong stubby fingers. He can’t hold it back much longer, trying to plunge as deep as he can, burrowing himself completely in the ass smashing back against him with wet slaps. This is so perfect, he needs it, Needs It…

And then Martin comes. The small body sputtering, rocking back and forth under the continuing assault, letting out broken cries that drive Brandon further in his frenzy.

“Oh God, Oh God…,” the bruised chest heaving, his cock hot and sensitive in his own hand. It’s gorgeous. 

“Come on, come inside me, please come inside me…” 

He clenches down on Brandon, who has to hold himself up on the bed now, more heat flushing into where Martin is tightly wrapped around him. Just two, just one stroke… The sensation of the orgasm floods his body, panting, shivering, and giving in to the brightness and the feeling of disorientation. 

He collapses onto Martin. 

Everything is silent and good. 

He doesn’t know how long he’s been laying there sprawled upon the other man, but it couldn’t have been long. Martin’s fingers fiddling with his hair bring him back. He’s back…  
The rush still tangible in his chest, but gone very soon. 

Everything is as before. 

He swats the hands behind his head away and pulls out, hissing at the slight pain it gives him. Martin’s relaxed smile disappears from his face and changes back to something cooler, more studying and threatening. He has to get off him. 

“Let me take that.” 

He tugs off the filled condom and walks into the bathroom to remove his own on shaky legs.  
He’s sweaty; hair completely messed up, dick still red. When he looks up through the fingers washing his face with soothing cold water he stills. 

He’s old, worn out and spent. 

What they have just done was filthy… filthy filthy filthy. 

He turns away from the mirror. It felt good though... it often does and it never lasts. 

He decides to take a full shower, he doesn’t want to go out there and a shower sounds like a good excuse. 

Back in the studio, the lights are out with the exception of the nightlight. Martin is asleep on the bed, watched over by David. The old man looks up at him. Smiling his insecure gummy smile, hunger in his eyes. 

“Are you…?” 

Brandon steps close to the chair and opens his bathrobe. Hands touching him exploring the lines of his muscles. 

“You’re so perfect, so perfect…” 

He gets on his knees, David’s trousers already undone, he grabs for David’s cock and starts sucking him off. It doesn’t take long till his mouth is filled with the hot liquid.  
He sits back on the bed, hard again, this was never the problem, and David goes to work, slurping, wheezing, muttering pathetic compliments throughout.  
Brandon starts pushing himself in a little just to shut him up. He comes unceremoniously, David licking off every drop, and then leaning in to kiss him on the mouth to make him taste himself. He reluctantly opens it, the rush already over. 

“My sweet gorgeous prince, you’re so good to me! So good! Stay! Stay till the morning as long as you want, my beautiful one!”

Brandon doesn’t want to but he has to, he’s too wasted to get home. After David kisses him again and leaves he turns around on the bed, looking into two deep blue eyes. 

Martin is awake. Brandon doesn’t know how long for. The little guy lifts the blanket he has tugged himself under, half-dressed again. 

It’s an invitation. 

Not one out of pity. There isn’t any pity on his face, nor judgement. 

It’s an invitation to sleep. 

One which Brandon gladly follows. He rolls up beside him, a fair gap in between, and immediately falls into a deep soothing slumber. He doesn’t feel the stubby hands gently stroking his hair or the studying gaze on his now relaxed face.  
Neither does he feel the trembling of the little body spooning him that turns into a shaking in the early hours of the morning. The only thing he notices is that Martin is gone when he wakes up. 

The new clothes gone as well, as is the open bottle of bourbon, but everything else is in place. It’s already 8am he has to get ready. He doesn’t want David to drive him home.

He mustn’t know where he lives. 

When he dresses himself he finds a dirty white raver shirt, mixed among his things. It stinks of cold sweat and unwashed human. But with a little lavender in it. He picks it up, uncertain what to do. 

Then he stuffs it into his bag and leaves.


End file.
